


Waiting for Leo

by Winnychan



Series: Spring Fever (Winnyverse) [6]
Category: TMNT (2007), Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles (TV 2003)
Genre: Angst, Closeted Character, Drama, Established Relationship, Humor, Insecurely Gay Leo, It's a fucking rollercoaster tbh, M/M, Porn With Plot, Realistic Turtle Naughtybits, Relationship Study, Reptiles Only Raph, Romance, Tail Sex, Twentysomething Mutant Ninja Turtles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-22
Updated: 2018-10-22
Packaged: 2019-08-05 15:54:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,506
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16370603
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Winnychan/pseuds/Winnychan
Summary: We start walking again, and there’s not much to think about except how annoying Leo can be, and how much I still wanna jump him, and how those two things could pretty much sum up our whole relationship.





	Waiting for Leo

You got no idea how long I been waiting for this. Christ, you oughta see how sweet and harmless and totally supportive I been lately... (hahaha, right? Fuck you too). And I actually mean it, that's the kicker. But at the same time I can't completely ignore the fact that there is this hard-coded, deeply ingrained reptile, this psycho sexual predator just kicking back on a rock in the back of my brain, biding his time.

It's been building between us all week, and I've been unable to stop myself from obsessively thinking about it. On the one hand, feels like I been waiting for Leo for so long that it's hard not to flip out at the thought of going back to it. But it's always been three steps forward and two steps back with him, since the very beginning. I don't know why I can't chill out and just expect it. I guess that's what I've been trying to do. This downtime is never going to last, I keep telling myself. Not after we've finally _gone there._

God, it was good. It was real good for both of us. And we know damned well it was, even when we're pretending not to. I was able to pull out, just like I said I would. Nobody went crazy on each other. Nobody got hurt.

There's no denying that we've finally gone and broke Don's big 'no penetration' rule, though. Yeah, that one fact still does scare me. There are times when I'm scared half to death for both of us.

But it's better now than it used to be. Way better. What did I have, before I had him? A whole lot of nothing. A whole lot of feeling completely alone in the world, a freak among the freaks, right? God, I used to drive myself nuts, telling myself, 'It's so sick, what are you thinking? What kind of twisted fuck has dreams about his own brother?' I used to beat myself up over it on a pretty regular basis. At thirteen I was so messed up over it all that I could hardly stand to be around him.

Anyway, I mean it when I say that things got way better since those days. Master Splinter had a lot to do with that. Not that he can ever know the whole truth about us, but he still taught me not to hate myself -- not ever, for any reason. It sunk in somehow, and I'm more grateful for that than I can say. It really was a decent enough upbringing that he gave us, considering the shitty cards we all got dealt.

But all this issues-from-my-childhood bullshit aside...? I think that also maybe I'm just -- getting used to it, you know? Ain't it bound to happen? He and I been screwing around pretty steadily for a couple years now. We're not even sticking to the Season anymore. Right up until It Happened, we've been teasing the ever-living shit out of each other pretty much every chance we can get.

The silence between us starts to feel intense. He's got a death grip on my wrist and he's hauling us both forward. I'm still kind of stunned by this, but I don't argue. I just keep up.

For the first half of the trip I've got nothing to do but plod after him through the muck and darkness and pass the time thinking about shit. I kept wondering when the real fight was going to start. I'm thinking, okay? What about now? I mean, we're definitely far enough away that we could duke it out without disrupting poor Donnie while he's trying to do his homework.

We'd just got done training, and I'd been paired up with Mike for most of it while Leo went through a bunch of tricky balance exercises with Splinter. And I wasn't really watching or anything, cuz Mike and I were busy clowning around like usual. Maybe a little more than usual, cuz we were both hearing things from the other side of the room that tells us Leo is not having his best session ever. Splinter is pulling out words like "Find your center!" and "Concentrate!" and these aren't words he's had to say to the Great Leonardo for some time. If anything, I'd say we were being goofy mostly as a courtesy, so we could play it off like we didn't notice the trouble he was having. But our screwing around still must have ticked him off somehow.

He kept a lid on it until we were officially dismissed, but after that he starts throwing words around. I knew he was getting under my skin on purpose, but that never makes him any easier to ignore. Don had skipped training, which he's allowed to do whenever he pleases apparently, since he's some kind of Utrom exchange student these days. He actually pokes his head out of the cubby hole where he's been studying mumbo jumbo for days and gives us both the evil eye, and says if we have to be so loud and obnoxious can we at least take ourselves somewhere else and not disrupt him?

Now one thing you should understand about Leo is that, unless it's Splinter or someone who actually has authority, he really don't like being told what to do. And right now he especially don't want to hear it from Don, who's been acting like he's some kind of marooned alien himself these days, and too damned good for any of us. Actually those are probably more my words than Leo's, but still. If you asked him (and actually got a straight answer, which is the tricky part) he'd probably say that Don already feels estranged from all of us and doesn't act like he wants to be part of the team anymore, and that scares the ever-living piss out of him. But he can't act scared about anything in front of the others, and he's already pissed. So when Don says this, Leo whirls to give him a blazing, scary look and I can tell right away that he's seeing red.

But Don's right, like he usually is (which is the most annoying thing about any time Don decides to get uppity, hands-down). What can Leo do without looking like an asshole? There's nothing either of us can do except shut up and leave.

Generally I agree with all the frustration he is feeling lately regarding Don. But at the same time, I can't help watching this exchange and groaning inside, because now Leo looks more grim and ticked off than ever. I know that the moment we're both outta earshot he's liable to explode and take it all out on me.

So that's what I thought we were doing. It seemed like we were just taking our pent up testosterone outside or something, where it wasn't going to bother the others. But now, I just don't know what's going on anymore. Somehow it's swung in the other direction. I can sense his glance every time it slides towards me but I can't tell from his face what it means.

Of course my natural response to it is to start feeling impatient as hell. I want to beat back my early suspicions that picking a fight with me is no longer the first thing on Leo's mind. I try to think up nice and harmless ways of confirming the hopeful notions that have leaked into my brain. Hi, uh, sorry to interrupt when you're busy being broody and mysterious, but were you planning on telling me where the fuck we're going? You gonna beat on me or jump me or what? Nothing I'm coming up with to say sounds too nice or harmless when I play it back for myself. If we are about to do something besides fight, saying something that Leo can interpret as me being an asshole is the best way to screw things up for sure.

This is why thinking before you talk sucks. Mostly I wind up saying nothing at all.

After awhile, the idea of getting laid is so firmly planted in my brain that I give up trying not to hope it. I let my chest fill up with a crazy hopeful thrill. We'd already be fighting by now if that's what he planned for us to do. So that means Something Else is probably what's happening, and the best plan is to shut up and roll with it. Once I decide this, it gets a little easier. I've got no reservations. God, I been waiting for him for so long.

It doesn't take long after that to work out where we're headed. There's this ancient, abandoned utility closet we been sneaking off to lately. I'm the one who found the place. I sort of fixed it up for him... you know, for us. I got it into my head to clean it up and turned it into a sort of -- I don't know. A surprise for him, I guess. He's been so stressed out lately. About us, I'm pretty sure. But we can't seem to talk about it, not even when I get the balls to actually sit him down and try to force it. Maybe it's just that I'm an idiot when it comes to picking up on other people's subtle emotional shit. Or maybe he's giving me zero clues to work with here. Actually, I figure it's both.

I know a lot of it is just Leo being paranoid and self-hating and batshit crazy... I know that! But if what's driving him crazy has to do with us, I can't just assume it's all on him. It stands to reason that a part of what's messed up about us right now has to do with me. So of course I wanna fix it! I start feeling desperate to do SOMETHING that might fix it, even though I don't completely understand.

Lately I've got to be careful not let my frustration turn into being pissed at him. Because the truth is, I'm not pissed at him. I feel kind of sorry for him. He doesn't mean to be a nutcase. Sometimes I get the feeling that's exactly what he hates more than anything: how crazy all this makes him. He'd rather be cool and collected and on top of everything all the time. It's like he can't find his happy Zen place anymore, and it's all because of me. I can't stand that thought. He tries so hard not to blame me, but maybe he should, because I just can't let him go.

I guess it's just one more way that I'm stuck in limbo waiting for Leo. There's nothing else I can do. I can't give him up, so there's nothing to do but just keep on forgiving him for all these times he can't just trust me, or relax a little, or be straight up with me. Whatever... this is what I'll do, then. I'll wait for him. I'll be there for him. I will wait, and I will wait, and probably wait some more, until finally -- maybe someday - he will work out all of his bullshit and we can just fucking be happy for once in our lives.

God, I must be mentally challenged, considering how long I wracked my brain for some way to help with what he's feeling neurotic about. Fixing up this stupid room was the best I could come up with.

It's not close. Feels like it's a million miles away from the lair. You might think that would make it a hassle, but that's actually part of its charm. I tried my best to make it nice. The mattress is mostly clean. It's got sheets. Threw up some curtains to cover up the ugly concrete walls. It's even got lights and heat and music, thanks to an old portable power supply that I was able to rig up to some pre-existing wiring. Makes the place downright cozy. From his reaction the first time he saw it, I'm pretty sure I did something right when I made this place. He seemed impressed. The battery pack only needs to be hauled back to the lair to be recharged every once in awhile, and I can do all that from the garage, which makes it easy to do without raising any suspicion.

Christ, it's a long walk. Which is great mostly, but there's not much left of autumn and I can't shut up the voice in the back of my head that is starting to worry if I'll be able to -- y'know, perform -- once the chill in the air really starts to sink into my skin. I'm afraid it might have its usual effect on me.

I got a strong ulterior motive for being so diligent about keeping that battery pack charged. I only want to use this trick sparingly. More than anything I don't want to start relying on it to get where I need to be. But, man... what a difference it makes. He don't know any of this, but I've rigged the whole place with sun lamps. Confiscated a real nice setup from this scumbag dealer I took down with no trouble about five months back. He'd been growing in one of the walk-in closets of his fancy condo and supplying his crop to two nearby public high schools on the lower east side. So it was kind of for the good of society, along with my sex life, ok? Not to mention what is probably my last scrap of machismo and dignity, or whatever I got to fucking pass for it these days.

I just can't -- I can't bring myself to tell him about that.

The most fucked up part is, I realize it's not even a long-term solution, me not telling him. I mean, Leo is one sharp cookie. He's gonna put two and two together eventually. It's only a matter of time. I realize I'm being a coward. Guess that's what burns me up about it worse than anything else. It never fails to make me feel like shit for all the times I've had to point it out whenever I caught Leo being not-so-Fearless about our admittedly fucked up relationship.

I'm not saying he isn't still a coward about it ever, because he is. Most of the time he is, about anything that has to do with us. Look, I'm just being honest. You should see what I've had to put up with. Still, I ain't through putting up with his bullshit yet. Not even close. And I finally got it through the rocks in my skull that bringing up this fact point-blank never does either of us a damned bit of good.

You gotta understand me enough to see through all my macho street warrior bullshit posturing. There weren't no coming of age story for me, before this. I'm not saying I never made alliances with humans during my legendary topside adventures, cuz everybody knows by now that there were. But it wasn't ever... about that. Mostly it was just some people I knew I could count on not to blow their tops when they saw me. Some restaurants I could eat at if I stuck to the booths in the back. Some bars that would serve me if I was careful to keep out of the light. A few safe houses, some informants, that sort of thing. Nobody from the surface world ever desired me -- not so far as I know, anyway -- and it probably would have meant the end of our acquaintance if they had. These weren't friendships so much as conveniences, and there was almost always violence at the center of it. Back in those days I was all about chasing a different kind of rush: confrontation, adrenaline, and all the rest of that dark shit I was addicted to for years.

In all that time, there was never a reason to feel anything like this weird tenderness Leo wakes up in me lately... The littlest things he does can turn me stupidly happy. I love that we got no chance of sneaking up on each other these days. It's like somehow we've become supernaturally aware of each other's presence. I have to check my instinctive glances towards him all the time, because my attention will just get sucked towards him before I even know he's there.

Yeah, uh... can you not repeat any of that? And not just cuz I would sound like the biggest fag if people knew I went around thinking sappy cornball shit like that... actually, there's that too. But I don't hate myself just for thinking it. Not anymore... I don't know or even care at this point if I'm gay, or bi, or straight and bi-curious. Straight with even less options than a lonely dude in the navy or prison, right? Anyway, fuck all those human labels. What's the difference, really? Call me whatever the hell you want. Tell people I'm a goddamned dendrophiliac for all that I care (because according to Don, there is actually a word for people who wanna fuck trees).

Course, Leo's never understood or shared my apathy about the whole sexual orientation thing. I'm tempted to say I just matured, put things in perspective finally. Worrying about how gay I was started to feel like sweating the small stuff. I mean, I'm already doomed to stay in the closet for life about being an entirely different species than 99 point a billion more nines percent of the whole freakin' universe, right? Come on, I keep telling him. We got way better reasons than that to have low self esteem! But fat chance of getting him to see it that way.

God, we're getting close to our place. My heart starts beating faster. It's getting hard to think about anything besides how good Leo looks, still all sweaty from our practice together and the fast pace he's been setting.

There's this lull in the forward motion as we're stuck waiting for an underground train to pass in front of us. His hand dragging on mine goes slack and I come to a stop beside him. We can only stand there and wait for it, holding hands in the darkness. I can feel his attention sliding my way, sneaking glances, and once I notice I can't seem to help glancing back. With the subway lights flashing over his pale shiny skin, it almost seems like we're underwater together. Everything looks surreal. That's when it hits me again, and I don't know what comes over me. I'm usually so bad about compliments, but he looks so good that I come right out and tell him so.

Let me tell you, complementing Leo will get you places. I really should try it more often.

Yeah, suddenly he's all sweet, sly smiles. I can feel his breathing picking up, and that's the only warning I get before he reaches for me. His foot hooks against my ankle and topples us both to the ground. It's a commercial subway, thank god. The last thing we need is a bunch of dipshit passengers with nothing to do but stare out the window and gawk at the two turtle creatures groping each other in the darkness.

Fuck it, I remember thinking. Who needs the damned sun lamps! If I'd had my way, I'd coulda taken him right then and there. But once the train has passed us, the moment we were having mostly goes too. He tries to pull me up to my feet. I protest - grab onto him and grumble something unintelligible. But Leo's not hearing any of it. "Come on," he says. "We're almost there. We've come all this way!"

I don't follow his logic, but whatever. Doesn't matter. Sometimes the best thing to do (if you want to get laid) is to go along with whatever Leo's saying. He's talking like this has become the official mission, suddenly. Lord forbid we deviate from The Plan when doing it in our little maintenance room was the original goal.

He's right, though -- it ain't far away at all from where we're at. I tell myself to stop being horny and ornery and haul myself up to my feet. We start walking again, and there's not much to think about except how annoying Leo can be, and how much I still wanna jump him, and how those two things could pretty much sum up our whole relationship.

Before I know it, we're heading into the last tunnel. It's a small, crappy tunnel, the kind with a really low-ceiling, so you have to walk through it hunched over the whole way. Normally I hate these small, crappy tunnels, but this one's okay, mostly because I know our place is just at the other end of it. Leo's leading the way, because he can't help himself, so it puts me at a great angle to mess with him. I'm still worked up and the temptation is too great for awhile. I reach out and slide my fingers up under his tail, copping a feel. He reaches back and bats my hand away sharply. It's too dark to really see the death look I know full well is being thrown my way. But I don't want to cheese him off completely. It would be an awful lonely walk all the way back to the lair without him, so I don't try it again.

We've cleared the tunnel. My heart slams in my chest with new anticipation. I couldn't tuck my tail up right now, even if I had a good reason to try.

I wrap my arms around him as soon as we've crossed into our secret little fuckpad. I'm all over him before we even make it onto the bed. He doesn't protest or try to throw me off him this time. His arm stretches forward, reaching for the switch that will turn on the lights.

"You don't have to," I tell him, a strained growl. Like always, I'm having a hell of a time pinning him in place

"But we're always hiding, aren't we? Always skulking in the dark... And anyway, you're beautiful," he goes on to explain smoothly, sweeping a hand behind my head. "So I'd rather see you."

I tuck my chin, brightly embarrassed. Nobody's ever called me that before, and I don't know what to say.

His bone plates under my palms feel cool and smooth, cooler than anything else in the room suddenly. I can feel them rising and falling beneath my spread hands as he starts to breath faster. He reaches one hand back and his dry fingertips drift up and down the back of my neck where he knows my skin is the most sensitive. Up and down, up and down. God, it's making me want him so bad.

I growl again and force myself to drag my face up off his shoulder. I twist away from the intoxicating scent of him and try to get control of my spinning head, but it doesn't help. This is a cramped and poorly ventilated concrete box we've decided to cuddle up in, and the air has become a thick cloud of our sexually charged hormones. His fingers wrap around my bandana tails just below the knot, tugging insistently. Already the heat from the lamps is soaking into the walls. It's an oven in here suddenly. Every one of my senses is blazing. Both the lamps and the chemicals in the air were working their magic on me, stirring up my dormant hormones. Soon I am groaning against his shell, my big arms wrapped tight around him from behind. The effect is disorienting. Suddenly time is moving too quickly to keep track of things. I'm not sure how we even got like this. I don't remember getting him flipped around. But now we're on the ground together, and I'm on top of him, and it's pretty clear that we're not making it onto the bed.

Maybe this whole thing I been waiting for was a bad idea from the start. For the first time it occurs to me that maybe fucking him under the sun lamps is something we should work up to. But these last minute flutters of panic beating a warning against the inside of my plastron are not enough to actually pull me off of him. Like always, I am completely owned by the forward momentum of my crazy overwhelming feelings. Wrapping my knuckles in a tight grip on the edge of his shell, I make a sound like a snarl and push against the ground with both legs. My tail is stiff and swollen. It's a mild and delicious shock when the wet and hyper-sensitive skin hits the air. I can't help it; I push my dick out the rest of the way and start to prod him with it. It feels so good to follow these instincts and drive it against the backs of his legs and his lean, muscular ass. I push into the hard curve of his shell, letting the sharp grooves and whorls scrape my lower plastron in a way that makes everything feel so natural. I am humming and groaning as I smear and stab him with my cock.

"Ohh. Oh, Raph," Leo chokes raggedly, pushing back against me. I'm muttering too -- praising him I think -- but I can't for the life of me give an accurate report of what I was actually saying. I'm too far gone to wait anymore. I would say anything to further this.

It takes me longer than it should to figure it out, but finally I deduce something important from his gentle bucking beneath me and the way his eyes are closed, and the rhythmic way his legs and shoulder muscles are bunching -- Leo's cock is out too! But it's more than that, I realize. He is hastily beating off, in that hands-free way we sometimes do, using the muscles in his tail to saw it between his clenched thighs. It's another mild shock, one that kicks my excitement into overdrive. This is a good sign. Oh, yeah... This is a VERY good sign.

See, there's no way I can penetrate him while he's hard. There's just no where for me to GO until he's been taken care of, so to speak. So I'm excited, but at the same time, it strikes me that this is a self-sacrificing thing for him to do. By the urgent pace of his pumping, I can tell he's trying to make himself come quickly. And the amazing thing is, he must be doing this for my sake.

My heart is hammering. God! I really, really want to now. My mouth has gone wet. More than anything, I want him to get off so I can mount him and fuck that tail raw. It only takes a second or two more for me to realize... god damn it. I am the world's most selfish asshole. I can't just let him take care of both of us. It ain't right.

I gnash my teeth against the effort that it takes for me to stop dry humping his legs. I gotta do something about this, pronto! I spit into my hand, trying to get as much spit as I can manage while still being quiet and discreet about it. Loogie hocking noises do not really do it for him, see.

Now, spit sounds may be unsexy -- but sloppy wet hand jobs are a whole 'nother story, apparently. I'm not going to lie. I don't really get a whole lot out of this sexually, tugging on his dick for him. The only reason I'm even remotely good at it -- or giving blowjobs, for that matter -- is because some of my early attempts at sweet loving sessions with Leo quickly turned into _training_ sessions because I was sucking so bad (yeah, worst pun ever).

By now, I've had time to get over most of my awkwardness. I've been waiting for him so long that we're finally past all that. There's just no need for it. And somehow, it don't even matter if the sex act itself ain't especially doin' anything for me. There's this whole other level where it still feels real good to do it for him, like I'm pulling my weight for once instead of just letting him take care of both of us. That's what Leo does: he steps up. It's just in his nature to do more than his fair share, without saying a word or resenting a soul for it.

But not this time. For some reason, I just can't stand to let him.

The reach-around works like a charm. Leo glances back at me, surprised -- and maybe a little embarrassed -- but I can see he's happy with me. Yeah, he pretty much melts after that. Gets real clumsy and loud, and this ripe, lusty smell starts pouring off of him, and all of it tells me that I am doing my job. The lesson has been mastered, and I am doing just fine.

Historically I have not had a whole lotta' talent for stopping myself from acting like a moron without outside assistance. This time I'm gonna share some of that blame with the damned heat lamps. This should be my moment of triumph, right? He's about to give me exactly what I thought I wanted. There was even a point as we were walking here where I had it out with myself over this very thing. And the decision I quickly came to was not bring it up at all. There was no good reason for it! Especially not now, with Leo underneath me and egging me on, pretty much. He's play fighting with me, churring openly, and doing a real number on his fists, dragging them on the concrete in front of him.

All of these things are signs that I am in the clear. This is my green light. So OF COURSE it's time for me to open my dumb mouth and say the one thing I'd decided wasn't a good idea to say!

I can see him getting distracted from cumming because now he's noticed the struggle starting to show on my face. I pump my hand even harder over his cock in retaliation, trying to fend off the questioning look he's starting to give me. He's always been better than me at stare downs. Apparently he's better even when I have the supposed advantage of my hand wrapped around his junk. I veer my head away and the words spill out of me. "Leo," I say in a strangled voice, all the while thinking SHUT UP SHUT UP! "Why are you even...? You know you don't have to, right? I mean, we just wound up like this. And I want to. But I also wanna do -- uh, whatever you -- wellidunreallyknow. But. It's just that." This has quickly become horrifying. Terrifying. But there's no turning back from it now. "Leo, You know it ain't my turn!" There! I'd said it. Now I would surely be defeated by my own stupid, overblown sense of fairness. Because that's what we been doing, up til now -- taking turns. Even before, when we didn't dare go any further than fucking each other's thighs, we still traded back and forth as far as who got to fuck who. 

He only has a few seconds to realize what I'm talking about but it's enough time to start giving me this cocky, incredulous grin. That's when his orgasm hits, and the force of it wipes the scoffing amusement right off his face. He's curling in on himself and for a time he can't do much of anything except shudder and yelp with pleasure as his cum sprays all over the hot concrete underneath us. The potent smell of it mixes up with our pheromones and turns all my thoughts carnal. My head becomes a tangled mess of wants. It's all I can do just to focus on the duty before me and keep on milking his slick black mace until he finishes and his twisted features finally begin to relax. It was good enough to get him off, but he never did get his prongs out so it's not a long wait. I watch him the whole time, because there's some deep mystery in seeing such a tightly wound figure come undone. Soon I could feel his dick going soft and pulling back into his tail. It wasn't firing anymore, but jizz still welled up at the tip and hung like clear honey off the nubs, and oozing down the sides... and between my fingers... and all down the his legs, probably... yep. Jesus. Slime is everywhere.

At another time I might have been put off by this, but the timing was good I guess. In that moment it all felt very serene and natural, and also I might have been distracted by feeling pretty desperate to fuck him now. My strokes had become very gentle, knowing he was probably getting real sensitive and would have to push my hand away soon. But instead he endures it for longer than I would have, and turns his head back enough to study me with hooded, bliss-drunk eyes. I got the distinct feeling he was enjoying how patient and sweet I was behaving in spite of how worked up I was.

"Forget about _taking turns,_ will you?" he finally demands. Somehow the hushed voice he is using still manages to sound no-nonsense. "Forget all of that and _come here_."

"Nngh..." This awful creaking sound is the only response I can summon. I hesitate only as long as it takes for his words to fully register. Then I snap towards him like a starving dog let off its chain and seize him roughly, reasserting my place above him.

I waste no time in rubbing the swollen mace head along the underside of his tail, where the scales were small and felt like softly studded leather. I suspect humans have it easier, and probably real turtles do too... or maybe that's just wishful thinking. The truth is, I don't know whether to blame the way our freakish mutant bodies are put together, or the angle I'm coming at him, or my sheer lack experience. Either way, just like the time before, I find I have to reach down with one hand to guide myself into place. This ego blow is quickly soothed by the indescribable sensation of piece sinking into him. Instinct drives me to push with my legs and shove myself in deeper. It all happens much faster and more violently than I would have if I'd had enough sense left for courtesy. The noise Leo makes is approving, even though it seems to come from him with effort and through a white row of teeth that are bared and gnashed together in what looks to me like obvious pain.

"Hhaah... huh..." I could hear him panting.

"Ya' okay?" It sounded like good panting, but I still felt compelled to be sure.

"Y-yeah," he gasped. "Raph! Please. I-I'm ready! Nnhh... Fuck me! Please, fuck me!"

I think what finally drove me insane was hearing him talk like that. You gotta realize, normally this guy never swears! (Never did buy it a-hundred percent, mind ya'. Alone in the dojo, training at some ungodly hour so we don't see him screwing up his new flip-kicks or whatever? I bet he lands flat on his ass and swears up a storm. Tell me you can't see him!)

In retrospect, maybe I should have been concerned by this un-Leo-like behavior. Or maybe I'm just an evil sunuvabitch when I'm just about to fuck someone. But whatever it was, hearin' him talk like that had a mighty effect on me. Almost like it was some kind of sick personal triumph on my part. Something finally clicks in my head, something that seems so impossible, but at the same time so obvious that I can't believe I'm only seeing now it for the first time: Leo is way more gay than me! Could be the reason why he has had such a harder time accepting himself. And way more importantly (by my thinking) it means that the real reason Leo so okay with us not taking turns anymore is because... LEO LOVES MY COCK. That's it! Holy shit. The mystery is solved. Leo loves the cock. Worships the cock. His shit cannot wait to get railed by me.

No, I can feel nothing but totally stoked for having worked him up so good that he completely forgets himself. It was like the best proof of my own prowess that I had ever experienced. And after thinking about all of that... well, whatever else that went through my head from that point on -- I wouldn't exactly call it 'thinking'. Hearing him beg for my shit like a dirty-talking porn star was all the encouragement that I needed to frenzy.

I'm ashamed to admit that I had zero control of myself from this point on. I begin to slam him so hard that even though we'd only done it once before, it became the most familiar feeling in the world -- the only thing I could remember how do. It probably sounds like the worst sort of cop-out, but I swear it was like I stopped understanding everything else -- I couldn't tell you where I ended and he began, or that we were separate things at all. We were just... one thing... somehow. We were just one thing with one ancient purpose.

Okay, shut up. At least I didn't call it a 'primordial dance'. I'm not trying to be flowery, I just got no clear way to describe it in every-day words!

When you're in that state... cumming through your prongs... Christ, there's just nothing like it. It just goes on and on forever, and every second feels so fucking good. You probably can't even wrap your monkey brain around how good it feels. You can go ask Don about it if you want to hear a bunch of disturbing crap about our bodies being tricked into thinking we're fertilizing a bunch of eggs or whatever. All it really means to me is... six or seven minutes. That's average, okay? Most of you would count your lucky stars to cum for six or seven seconds. Think about it.

Or go ask the crack-heads in Harlem. They might actually have an idea.

So that was it. On the one hand, it was like some kind of earth moving spiritual experience. But once it was all said and done, I can't even describe to you what happened any better than "it felt so fucking good". It doesn't excuse the fact that I lost my goddamn mind. And for all that I felt so connected to Leo while I was getting to that sweet place... afterwards, I ultimately realize that I went there alone.

The moment I can swim up from it and actually string two thoughts together, it's like I have to grab onto this rocky edge of my sanity and hold on tight. Maybe that's a shitty metaphor, because what was looming under me was not pain and fear and death... it's the opposite. There was an ocean of bliss right beneath me, still lapping at my toes. It would be the easiest thing in the world to let go, just spread my limbs, and float some more on that feeling. My determination to stay sane is almost -- I don't want to call it human, but let's just say it is not exactly natural behavior on my part. That level of bliss, it's not like it gets old -- not even after six or seven minutes. Shit. You've had orgasms before, right? Wouldn't you ride it forever if you could?

But I can't let myself. And regardless of whether or not I'll ever feel right about saying it, maybe this is all the proof that I need. I must really love this guy. Jesus.

Plan B is what we call it. 'Trust your partner to fight you off', that's the long and short of it. In those first cold gasps of sanity, I realize that's exactly what this has become. Plan B must have went into effect big-time! My stomach wrings sour with fear as I realize that I have NO CLUE how much time has passed.

I drag my hands up to look at them slowly. My world has slowed into a lurching horror show. I'm still seeing through a confused haze. I'm checking my hands for blood and it takes a long time to separate the awful possibilities from what I'm really seeing. I've learned to be wary of that sluggish feeling of contentedness that always follows this. Everything seems so right with the world, until it's not -- it's really not! It's not like this hasn't ever happened before.

But tonight we weren't sticking to Don's strict notions about "safe sex". This is really not the time to screw up like this! Some punishment-seeking part of me thinks that waking up to a scene of gore and devastation would be my just desserts. But my hands seem to be clean. Finally, it sinks in that they ARE clean. They're clean, thank God!

I'm draped on his side and our legs are sticky and tangled together. I crane my neck to look down at what I can see of our tumbled bodies. The sight that greets my roaming eyes continues to comfort me. We are greens and yellows and browns, all the colors we should be. Well, we are also sort of purple in a few places, particularly where I must have bruised my thighs against his shell when I was plowing him. But the important thing is, nothing is red!

I start to look over the rest of him, just to be sure. He's stroking my head now. I can hear Leo saying my name, and something else, talking sweet to me. But I can't really understand any of it yet. I'm just so glad that every part of him I check seems to be whole. No blood was drawn at all, far as I can tell (except for those knuckles, but he did that to himself).

I start to relax then, and allow myself to sink back into the aftershocks of what has happened. It's still kind of confusing -- always is. We're never in the position I expect us to be in. I'm also drenched in sweat. We both are. The soft hum of his words drifting over my head starts making sense eventually. Leo's whispering that he's fine, telling me not to worry. Everything's fine, we're fine, just enjoy it. By the time I can understand all of this, I am busy turning into a heap of turtle shaped Jello and no longer need to hear it.

Just when I've let down the last of my defenses -- just when I am lounging in what's left of my bliss, my heavy eyelids drift upwards and find the one place he might still be hurt. Wouldn't you know it? The one place I forgot to check! Tears are streaming down his face. And we're not talking 'tears of joy' or any of that shiny Hollywood bullshit. No. What I mean is, Leo has seriously started to cry for some reason!

Shit. Shit-shit-shit! Dread is filling up my insides. Something did happen after all. I'm thinking, I did something, I said something, treated him like a piece of meat. He didn't seem hurt, not on the outside, but somehow I must have tore him up just the same.

My first thought is that I've shown him some scary, monstrous side of me. I can't even say how this thought kills me. Maybe he can't look at me the same anymore after tonight. He's seen something in me that he'll never be able to forget. Maybe...

"Leo... what?" That's all I can manage to say. Actually it comes out more coherent than I'm expecting myself to sound. Scrunching my brow with confusion, my hand touches his face. I'm trying to get him to look at me head on, but he won't. He won't look at me. I don't understand anything anymore. A sharp and horrible sadness overwhelms me, raking through my guts and making mince meat of them. All these awful thoughts and blind guesses are making me want to die.

"It's not you," I can hear him muttering, "It has nothing to do with you." But it seems like such an obvious lie. I mean, he's used this very same lie with me a bunch of times before!

"How can -- what?" It sounds like more of the same old shit, two step forward and three steps back. I can't help but recoil from his words. "No! I -- we -- god damnit, Leo! You gotta -- you gotta tell me! You gotta stop doing this to me. I can't take it!"

"I don't have to tell you anything!" This defensive and mortified tone of his means he wasn't even planning on BRINGING UP whatever awful thing it was that I did to make him cry. That's so like Leo: he would rather suffer, rather deal with whatever-it-is without me, like his psycho state of denial is supposed to protect me from feeling hurt and conflicted. Probably he was hoping I'd was too out of it to notice. Thought he'd have plenty of time to get his game face on.

But Leo's game face is NOT on. His voice has gone all creaky and strange, like he needs to clear his throat, as he goes on to say, "I swear it, Raph! P-please, just -- look, I had fun. I did. This is... something else. It's got noth— well, it's got hardly anything to do with you!"

"BULLSHIT!" Christ. I think by this point I'm actually shaking him. When I'm sad and scared shitless, it can turn into anger quicker than you can say 'what the flying fuck is your problem, Leo'. "I WILL NOT PLAY THIS GAME WITH YOU, LEO! We've come too far! It ain't fair to leave me in the dark like this! You think it's for my own good, but believe me! Watching you suffer all these unspoken burdens... you are NOT doin' me any fucking favors!"

Nothing gets that game face on quicker than me throwing a temper tantrum. Leo is giving me an icy and vaguely superior look now. "Just what do you think this is about?" he asks me, so flat that it's barely a question.

"When I! When we were just!" I'm spluttering now. He has an uncanny talent for making me feel dense. Whether I'm actually right doesn't matter. He's that good. "HOW SHOULD I KNOW?" I finally howl at him. "How the FUCK am I supposed to get any of this if you can't even trust me, huh? That's my point!" I ball my fists and pound him once on the plastron, a bit harder than I mean to, but it doesn't even phase him. "It ain't FAIR just to let me wonder!"

"For the last time," he says again, cold as ice. "You have nothing to worry about. It has nothing. To do. With you."

I hate when he pulls his leader voice on me in the bedroom. I almost tell him so then and there, but it's the wrong time for it. Looking into his calm, glassy eyes, I'm starting to re-process what he's been saying to me. "Leo... I swear to God. Look, maybe you've talked yourself into some skewed view of -- okay, I still have no idea what even happened. But if you--"

"We had sex! We had really great sex, okay?" Leo looks up and away like he's getting annoyed with me. "We both got off. I tossed you of me off in plenty of time. Yes, it was kind of... rough. But you know that's how I like it. And no one got hurt, which is also great. In fact, I hope we do it again soon. Okay?"

"Yeah, but -- how can you say that I'm 'hardly involved' when I was the one fucking you? Look, Leo. I'm not trying to fight about this! All I'm sayin' is -- okay, it felt good. Like, physically. But still! If we're doing things that -- I don't know! That you still aren't a hundred percent okay with...?" I'm clueless, grasping at straws now, and it definitely shows.

Leo clears his throat derisively. "Please. I'd like to think I've progressed beyond that, at least."

"FINE!" I explode, throwing up my hands in a 'to-hell-with-being-nice-to-you' gesture. "You're doing great, Leo! You're great, we're great. Everything's swell! But just to satisfy my healthy sense of curiosity... can you PLEASE tell me what it was about this really awesome sex we just had that made you start to cry? Can you do that for me, asshole?"

Another stare-down follows, but I'm determined to win this time. Sure enough, after a long hard stare Leo's tough-guy act starts to fall apart before my eyes. "You'll think -- it's stupid," he says, looking away. His voice is pleading with me now. "It IS stupid! You'll think it's the dumbest thing you ever heard if I tell you. But I swear that I did have fun, Raph. So...please, can't we just rack it up to more of Leonardo's lame issues? Can't you just let it go?"

His whiny speech is giving me such a fucking headache that for a moment I'm actually tempted. Instead I just shake my head and groan loudly, "Leo!" The rest of my words get muffled. I have planted my face directly into his lap to plead the rest of my case into his sticky thighs. "Leo, Leo, no. Okay? Forget it. And whatever the fuck it is, it's bothering you, so -- so it ain't stupid. Or, maybe it is stupid. But if it is, I won't say it is. It's not gonna destroy me or make me think less of you. I probably won't think it's worth caring about, one way or the other. So please -- please just spit it out before I fucking kill you, Leo!"

Silence. I don't take my face out of his lap. I suspect that seeing me plead my case in this ridiculous position is actually making it easier for him.

"It's not..." Crap. I know this water-logged, too-dignified-to-sniffle breathing thing he's doing-- Leo's crying again. I definitely don't want to look up now. It's just the weirdest thing in the world to see. I force myself to be patient and give him time to pull himself together again. I know he'd rather not speak until he can do it without his voice cracking. Real soft, he finally says, "It's just that... I'd kept that oath for a really long time."

It takes me a few confounded seconds to realize that Leo was crying because he'd finally broke that oath we all swore when we were ten about not saying cuss words.

Okay. I make a HUGE struggle to keep my natural expression off my face. Mostly this is a big fail on my part, because moments later he is poking his finger into my cheek, pointing out where he can see me starting to smile. "There, you see? You see?!"

"I... no! I ain't!" Wow, that IS a stupid reason. That's all I can think at first. But of course, now he has suckered me into making this promise! My mouth is flapping open and shut like a fish. "I would never! It's perfectly..." I can't bring myself to say it's understandable. "It's fine!" I gasp. It's the stupidest reason in the world to start crying, but I can't say a goddamned thing.

I'm glad I managed not to laugh outright. My amusement doesn't last much longer. He looks past us, into the distance, and says something really sad. "You know, used to come so naturally. But I can't seem to keep any of the promises I make to myself lately. I don't know when that changed..."

"Aww, geez, Leo," I say, because what else do you say to that? I sit up and wrap him in a fierce bear hug, hoping it will help make him feel better and also stalling for time. He buries his face into my shoulder and slumps against me. Shit. If I don't say something to say quick, he might cry on me. "Cut it out, will ya? You need to put that shit out of your head. That oath... I'm not saying it's stupid, but it don't mean a thing, Leo! Never did."

Yeah, so much for that idea I had about Leo all by himself in the dojo, cussing up a storm cuz he fell on his ass. My whole beautiful theory gets pitched right out the window. It was sweet while it lasted, but I know he wouldn't be upset like this if he'd broken the stupid oath before. "All I'm saying is... you've sworn way better oaths, Leo." I try running my hand over his skull. "You've defended us... We've always been able to count on you. The one about cussing, it was nothing next to those. Even Splinter will tell ya that it's not the words you use so much as how you use em'."

"Yeah," Leo agrees quietly into my shoulder. "I have heard him say that."

"And when you were using those words on ME back there? Hot damn, Leo. Any time, y'hear me? You can use that potty mouth on me ANY time."

I'm hoping this flattery will make him perk up and just be happy about what just happened. But there's something wrong with my tactics. This isn't the right kind of flattery at all, because Leo is looking off into the darkness. He looks more distant than ever. My words are pushing him away.

Hot as it was to hear, maybe it's just not how Leonardo wants to be. It's not how he wants to picture himself. "You know... forget it," I say, quietly back-peddling. "Hell, I'll forget it. Already have! Didn't hear a thing, okay? You can just go on like nothing ever..."

"It doesn't work that way, Raph," he says severely. "That's not how oaths work."

"Fine, then." I suck the inside of my cheek once, making a sympathetic click. "I guess you blew it."

"Guess so," he agrees flatly.

"There's no going back." I pause for the sake of drama before adding casually, "Not with me, anyway."

"That's ri... huh?" He looks over at me, sort of suspicious. "What do you mean?"

"You swore that oath before all of us, right? You been holding yourself to it with all of us."

"Yeah," he says with a scrunched up brow. He is prompting me to go on more than agreeing with me.

"Well -- so, you just broke your oath to me. The others, you still ain't cussed in front of them. So you don't have to backslide completely. You can still... be whatever you want to be with them. You can be that good example. And when you're with me..."

"Right," He tries to turn away, mumbling bitterly, "You just love my potty-mouth."

This comment strikes me as slightly annoying. What I'm trying to say to him has nothing to do with sex.

"You can relax," I correct him sternly, putting my hands on his shoulders. I feel them tense, bracing against any attempt I might make to spin him back around, but I'm not about to try. I rub them instead, kneading my thumbs into the bunched muscles. "You can be whoever you are when it gets to be too much, bein' that perfect guy all the time."

He makes a rueful sound, a huff of air pushed through his teeth.

"You can be... flawed," I insist quietly. "We can be flawed together. I like to think we have that, lately."

"We do," he agrees, sounding surprised to admit it. "You're right. That's how it's been." I can feel the tension in his shoulders finally starting to let go. Encouraged, I get up on my knees to do a proper job of it. "Lately I'm shocked at all the things you let me get away with," he adds. Even though I can't see his face, I'm pretty sure that he's starting to smile.

"Well, I ain't trying to be an insecure teenage dickhead for life. And you don't need me cutting you down all the time."

"Just some of the time," he says, lolling his head back to look at me upside-down.

"Right," I agree, grinning down at him. "Sometimes you're askin' for it."

 _"Hai,"_ he agrees, eyes glittering, his face very close to mine. In this moment, he is so adorable that every annoying thing he's ever done is ancient history, fully forgiven. Then he straightens up and looks forward again in a purposeful way. I take this to mean I am supposed to keep massaging his shoulders.

It seems strange to me how natural this feels, considering our history. Maybe it's that lovey-dovey just-had-sex feeling people talk about. Some inner glow has taken over my brain, turning me into a sap.

Maybe I'm just getting used to this. To us.

My hands continue to work, and neither of us speaks for awhile. It's an easy silence, full of companionship and calm. What he just said goes both ways, I guess. Showing him this open affection is like something he is letting me get away with. I never expected to have this with anyone; I wrote off the whole idea a long time ago. The more I think about it, the more huge and important it seems. We are changing, and I am behind it one-hundred percent. I am not afraid. I want him to acknowledge to me and to himself that we are not brothers anymore. We are partners. He is crazy and he is strict and a real pain in the ass at times, but I accept all that. Next to this, the sex is has no consequence. This is what I've really been waiting for.

Someday the others will leave us. It will probably happen sometime after Splinter isn't around and holding us all together anymore. Hell, maybe Don won't even be able to wait that long. Sometimes I think that mentally he's already packed his bags. With Mike, it's almost sadder because I don't think he even knows it. But the world above has been calling to him for awhile, and I think someday he will have to answer. Leo shares these dark suspicions. If we're not careful, it can depress the hell out of both of us.

As for me, I have decided to stay. I wish for some way to let him know without coming out and saying it. I try to wad all my thoughts into a tight crackling ball and push them out through the palms of my hands. _You won't have to worry about me._ I try to think the words as hard as I can, all the big important promises I can't ever seem to say. _I am not going anywhere. You can't be rid of me, even if you tried. As long as I am breathing, I am on your team for life._

It works too well. He had been starting to lean into my hands but now he goes very still. He's too good at what he does lately. Ever since he got to train with the Tribunal during his five-fold path thing, he's been too damned sensitive to everything we're thinking. I don't think he means to be, a lot of the time. Technically he's not allowed to hear what's going on in our heads at all, not unless we specifically try to show it to him.

But that's exactly what I had just done.

 _Raph_ , he says, but I don't think he's really saying it out loud. There is no direction to the words; they come from all around and nowhere. _Raph, Raph, I believe you, okay?_ He turns around and if there was any doubt before, it's gone now. His mouth doesn't move at all, but I hear him in my head just the same. _I don't always believe in myself, lately. But I believe in you._

He wants to kiss me, I can tell, but he respects how I feel about that. So instead he is burrowing against my neck, pressing his mouth to it. I don't mind and even nuzzle back some. He gets more ferocious about it, and I wind up knocked onto my back with how bad he wants to climb on me and fake kiss me.

This is better, I think. This is a whole lot closer to what I wanted. Is it so much to ask for, that we just be happy together? Finally, I think. Finally.

"Remember when I said I wouldn't mind doing it again sometime soon?" he murmurs, once his teeth let go from biting me. "I hope now wouldn't be too soon?"

"Heh," I murmur, starting to grin. I'm secretly grateful for the heat lamps, though, because otherwise I might not be so confident when I murmur, "You won't hear me complaining."

"And what was it you were saying earlier?" he murmurs slyly, "Something about it being my turn?"

I go very still beneath him.

"Raph...?" He pulls away to give me a penetrating look. No pun intended, asshole. But that's what he's doing. His look is digging into me and I can't squirm out from beneath it. I have to crane my head far off to the side, and even then I can't quite avoid it.

"Right," I manage, but any fool can see through me. I can't even look at him.

"Raph?" He says my name with kindness, all the cleverness gone from his voice. "It's okay, Raph. We can be flawed together, remember?"

"Flawed. Right," I choke, trying and failing laugh about it. But he's right. I can't play this off like a tough guy. Not after I've asked him to trust me with everything. It has to go both ways, right? "I... I ain't ready. I'm a coward, okay?" I close my eyes tightly. Christ.

"That's fine," he tells me sagely.

"No, it ain't," I counter, sullen and ashamed.  
  
"Yes, it is," he insists, putting on his tone that won't allow any talk-back. Then he settles into a drape over me and cocks his head. "Listen, Raph. I won't act like it isn't something I'll continue to hope for someday, but... you know what?" I peek up to find him smiling. "Take all the time you need. I owe you that much, don't I?" He touches his beak to mine gently and says, "I'm willing to wait."


End file.
